Come Home
by itwasinevitable94
Summary: One shot. What could happen at the beginning of season 11. Tony finds Ziva.


Wrote this as a bit of catharsis after all the news about Cote leaving. It's not a depressing end, I promise!

…

The sun was just beginning its decent as he looked out at the waves gently crashing against the Israeli shoreline. It was her hair that first caught his eye, her natural, chestnut curls that he loved so much blowing wildly in the soft sea breeze. She was settled on a small dune a ways away from the water, her knees pulled up to her chest and her toes buried in the warm sand, watching as young families began to pack up for the day; fathers folding beach towels and repacking picnic baskets while mothers wrangled their small children back from the waves and worked to brush the sand of their tanned skin.

He approached her slowly and sank into the sand close beside her.

She did not need to glace up to know her new beach companion was her old partner.

"How did you find me?" she questioned quietly after an extended silence passed between them, her eyes remaining trained toward the water. As soon as the question left her mouth however, she knew she should not have bothered asking; he knew her better than anyone; he could find her anywhere.

"Remember you mentioning this place once," he explained with a shrug, recalling the time she had briefly spoken of coming here as a child, though she hadn't gone into great detail.

She released a gentle sigh, keeping her gaze on the sea, and he turned to face her before she began. "I was seven when we last came here as a family. My mother, father, Tali… she was merely a toddler then." A faint, reminiscent smile grazed her lips as she seemed to recall a vision of the young version of her little sister. "Abba was mad I woke them up so early so we could get here as soon as the sun rose," she laughed quietly before continuing. "We stayed all day, playing on the beach and in the water. Abba taught me how to build a sandcastle, though Tali kept knocking them down," and again she chuckled softly. "My mother spent most of the day lounging on a beach towel, her floppy sunhat that I loved to steal from her and wear myself shading her face while she read a book. About halfway through the day it was starting to get quite warm, and I watched Abba run down to the water and fill one of our little buckets and bring it back, sneaking around to my mother's backside before dumping the entire contents onto her head. She got so angry with him, yet I could tell her anger was all for show as she chased him down to the sea with a huge smile on her face and pushed him into the waves." Ziva's smile during her recount of the tale was exactly how Tony pictured the one of her mother's. "I think that was one of the last times I saw my parents laughing and smiling together like that… happy," she finished, a hint of sorrow grazing her voice as her smile faded.

Tony bridged the short distance between them by reaching for her hand that was helping to clutch her knees to her chest, thankful she accepted his gesture and allowed their fingers to interlock.

"I wish you had more happy memories here, Ziva," he spoke wistfully, tenderly running his thumb along hers.

It was then that she finally withdrew her gaze from the water and placed it upon her best friend. It had been awhile since she had last seen him, lack of employment allowing his face to go unshaven with the scruff that she so rarely got to see but secretly loved. In some ways he looked more relaxed than when she last saw him, yet in other ways he looked more uneasy, tired perhaps. A part of her wanted to reach out and melt into his arms, to allow him to wrap around her, to sink into his embrace and forget the world. However, her lips took a different route from her heart's longing as she spoke again.

"I am not going back to NCIS."

He was quiet for a moment before answering. "I know," he responded in a low tone.

His accepting response surprised her. She had rather assumed he would oppose, try to beg her to return to NCIS, to him. But perhaps it had been more of a hope than an assumption. Perhaps a small, selfish part of her had wanted him to object; had wanted to feel needed and loved, like she could not just walk away and have everything be okay. And she suspected that maybe if she had made this decision a few years ago, he would have done just that, pleaded with her to stay. Now however, after everything they had been through together in the past year in particular, she knew she never should have thought he would have combatted her decision. He knew her heart too well for that. Though she was certain he probably already understood her reasons for this decision, she felt she owed him a verbal explanation.

"Too much has happened," she began. "I do no want my life to be hunting murders anymore. There is too much pain in all of the death. It is time for me to move on and find peace in my heart."

"You're staying here, aren't you?" he questioned softly.

"This is my home, Tony," she returned quietly, her gaze dropping to her lap.

He took a deep breath before squeezing her hand and responding. "No it's not. This might be where you grew up, where the memories of your childhood that you were forced to grow up too fast from lie, where you remember learning how to cook with your mother, listening to Tali sing Puccini, and building sandcastles with your father, but your home is where your family is... And while your blood family may be here, they're gone now," his voice softened at his last words before continuing. "But your memories of them will always be here," he brought his other hand that wasn't clutched in hers to his heart, "here so that they'll always be with you when you go off into the world and find an adoptive family, a family who can be there for you when the loss of the others and the pains of life become too much, a family who can hold you and love you and wipe away the tears when everything hurts. And your adoptive family- Gibbs, McGee, Abby, Ducky, Palmer… me… we're all in DC. Come home Ziva," he pleaded.

He stared at her intently as she continued to watch her knees, giving her time to process and absorb the words he had just spoken.

A good five minutes passed before she finally drew her gaze back to him, a single tear beginning its descent down her cheek. She closed her eyes as his calloused thumb ran across her skin to brush it aside.

"I do not want to hurt you, Tony," she spoke in a near whisper, her voice breaking slightly.

"The only way you could hurt me is if you made me get on that plane back to DC alone. I've done that once before, and I can't do it again."

"Tony-"

"No," he cut her off. "I told you four years ago that I couldn't live without you. Nothing's changed since then."

"Okay," she accepted quietly, her heart fluttering as she reached across the gap between them and settled her hand upon his scruffy cheek, allowing her palm to run gently along his rough whiskers before slipping to the back of his neck and pulling him close, placing a tender, lingering kiss upon his stubble. She drew back slowly, keeping minimal distance between their faces as she stared deeply into his eyes. Affection and passion surged between their glances while they fell into the familiar stare they had perfected over their eight years of buried emotions. The intensity of their gaze grew to a nearly unbearable level and the intoxicating smell of shea butter and sea breeze that wafted from her golden skin sent Tony's head spinning. His hands came to cup her face, and the distance between them closed quickly as he brought her lips to his own.

Ziva's mouth molded to his in near perfection, yet her response was slow as it took a moment, he was sure, for her to squelch her internal struggle and surrender to the kiss. He could distinguish the exact instant she finally allowed herself to fall into his touch as her lips began to move in tandem against his, the soft pressure of their initial contact slowly intensifying into a frenzied assault while both parties poured eight long years of silent desires into the ever inevitable, long anticipated and overdue kiss.

The fingers of Tony's left hand soon found themselves tangled in her wild curls as he moved to hold her mouth more firmly against his, and he took advantage of Ziva's slightly parted lips as a soft moan escaped to deepen the kiss further with the entanglement of their tongues. His right hand dropped to her waist and pulled her closer to his side before slipping further down to clutch her hipbone. The contact between them was searing, and they both soon found themselves torn between the necessary need for a breath of air and the desperate desire to remain connected.

Tony was the first to pull away, sucking in a much needed breath as he brought his forehead to rest against hers.

"You don't have to come back to NCIS, just come back to me. Ani ohev otach, Ziva David," he whispered.

Ziva's breath caught at his admission, and she briefly wondered how long ago he must have looked up that particular phrase. She pulled back ever so slightly to allow their eyes to lock and cupped his face with both hands. "I love you too, Tony," she finally returned before drawing his lips back to hers to continue their passionate kiss.

And as the amber glow of sunset fell over their entangled form, they both knew that no matter what happened, they would be okay, because their love could survive anything.


End file.
